We met not long ago. At a bar. 1870. I had just rustled up a band of misfits that were harassing Magaret, the barmaid-who also prostituted on the side-when I met Jasper. That there was the most beautiful man I ever did see. He always had a smile on his face. The best smile in the whole wide west.
I remember when he first turned to me and showed me that damn smile. My heart jumped and I felt my face get red-I was so glad my beard covered the majority of it-I quickly turned away to avert any more eye contact. I readied myself then sauntered over to him, ordered a drink for both of us, and we got to talkin.
"So...you new in town? Ain't seen you 'round here before."
"Why, yes I am. You tryna show me 'round?"
Jasper was the most flirtatious person I'd met. Whenever he would flirt with me he would give a wink, that wink drove me crazy. It was love at first sight for both of us. It wasn't surprising that later that night we were laying together in the moonlight. Jasper was a strange case of a cowboy, he wasn't gruff or that masculine at all, he was soft and feminine, a real change of pace I would say. The only thing that quite manly 'bout him was two things, his beard and something else I'm too embarrassed to mention. Though, he was plenty feminine too, especially when we were in bed. That's for another time though.
After that first night, we stayed in the town as a home base for a while, staying at the local inn. I got Margaret to lower the rent for our room as recompense for the help I gave her the prior evenin. She liked Jasper and Me, said we made a good combo for eachother. We agreed. Jasper had a way with doin his cowboy work, taking missions for small funds or fending off bandits who attacked the town, each action he did had such a flow and style to it. I wish I had the words to describe how he did his work. He drew his gun so swiftly, it looked like it was in his hand the whole time, and before the enemy could even think about firing back, the trigger was already pulled and they're heart had already stopped. Jasper was the quickest draw I ever did see. Me? I shake when I hold my finger on that trigger, even after being a vigilante in the west for the last 10 years, I still ain't used to takin a life. Jasper could do it with a smile on his face after, having saved the day and been the good guy. Me, I would hang my head and pray afterwards, hoping god would see that I was helping people with my sinful actions.
It was two years after I met Jasper when it happened. The day started in bed, we made love when we woke up. His soft kisses made my head spin like mad and the pleasure he brought me when we laid each other was immeasurable. We got a job from Margaret, like usual. It was to do with a band of bandits called the Cuernos Del Diablo, The Devil's Horns, said to be a very dangerous gang that came up from Mexico, rumor has it they helped America win the battle at the Alamo by selling them battle plans for a grand. I told Jasper that we shouldn't take this job, it would be way too dangerous for the two of us. Yet, Jasper said we could do it, and he had that smile on his face. That damn smile. The best smile in the whole wide west. That damn convincing smile.
We rode out, keeping close to each other. I was worried, Jasper looked excited.
"I have a bad feelin 'bout this." I protested.
"Cmo'n sugah it'll be fine."
"Jasp, am just not sure 'bout this. This job is way out of our depth."
"Clancy. Sugah. We'll be fine, am tellin' you."
"I just...I just don't know.." I let my head flop down, my anxiety like a weight in my head.
We rode in silence for the rest of the ride.
It was a foreboding kind of silence. The silence you hear before something bad happens.
The silence you hear before the trigger is pulled.
The silence you hear before your heart stops.
The silence you hear before a great and ravenous storm.
We reached the hideout of the bandits. It was under a large rock formation that covered them like a giant hand, keeping them safe in its vast umbra. A large number of tents sat under what we later dubbed "Devil's Hand Rock", the bandits seemingly all asleep, save for the few stragglers that were keeping watch. Me and Jasper split to take them out. I snuck over to one of them, he was sitting on a box, staring at the moonlight, his rifle readied in his hands. I grab him, putting my hand over his mouth and a knife against his throat, I let the cold steel on his flesh be the signal that his time on this earth was about to end. I wanted to just wrench the knife and end him. I wanted to get the job done. His muffled screams and feaful eyes... the tears that he shed. Did I really have the right to take his life? I...I let him go. He runs, and yells some random spanish that I don't understand. I yell out for Jasper to run, but my cry is silenced by the rapid gunfire that quickly ensued. I ran. I got hit in the leg and shoulder, but I ran. I left Jasper. I left him to die. As I ran I prayed, I prayed so hard. Prayed that he would make it out alright. I knew he would. He had too. He's Jasper. My tears stained the sands below me, I clutched the cross in my pocket and prayed for forgiveness.
Dear god, I beg thee forgiveness for my sins. I've been so devoted, ever since I was a boy. Wash me of these aberrant acts. For I wish for your holy light. Deliver me from this wretched world. Dear god, please let him live. Please. Let my Jasper live.
The thing about prayer is, you never really get an answer.
At least I didn't.
